


Silent Clapper

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Series: Kinktober 2020 [2]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blood As Lube, Blood and Injury, Creampie, Dubious Consent, F/M, Mentions of Death, Mildly Dubious Consent, Painful Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Teratophilia, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Summary: Mother’s Dwelling is the perfect place for a stealthy killer to go unnoticed. It’s nearly shrouded enough to mask the sounds and sights of more than a well-timed ambush—nearly perfect for a secret affair in the shadows.A/N: Day two of Kinktober! Kink: Public Sex (sorta) <3 I've been wanting to write for the Wraith for a long time. Not sure I pulled him off too well, but I had fun. Hehe.
Relationships: Philip Ojomo | The Wraith/Original Character(s), Philip Ojomo | The Wraith/Original Female Character(s), Philip Ojomo | The Wraith/Reader
Series: Kinktober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958581
Comments: 15
Kudos: 111





	Silent Clapper

The delicate drops of rain and swoon of fog between the trees are the first things you hear when the miasma of darkness slides away. Mother's Dwelling welcomes you in all it's faded blue hues and ancient pedunculate oaks, eyes in their barks watching and waiting. 

A twig snaps several feet away, but it's another survivor and not a shrouded killer spawned too close.

You give Felix a solemn nod as he crouches low between two towering shrubs of ramsoms in bloom. 

The blonde rubs his nose at the sharp odor of garlic before pointing off to the forest's west end, where a generator light flashes weakly between the trees. You nod again, gesturing to the hunting cabin in the distance. The both of you turn and go your separate ways, Felix hanging low to the bushes and shadows, and you… meandering slowly between the flora so as not to make too much noise. This place has always been a level playing field; if not more sided to a stealthy killer, should the opportunity present itself. 

Out the corner of your eye, you spot a shine of movement—oil on water—but squint through the trees only to find nothing. No one is there… or something is, and it chooses not to be seen. For a moment, your heart aches before picking up speed, thinking—hoping—the mirage in the blue darkness might be  _ him _ .

All around you, the forest whispers and breathes. Twigs snap and leaves bristle, following you towards the cabin and the drooping fairy lights. 

You step cautiously past the threshold and into a warm main room that pulses with orange firelight. Cleaved wood sparks and chatters away in the hearth, painting everything into red relief. Dark shadows grow where the fire's glow doesn't dare touch, but the fairy lights strung up between massive oak beams help chart out a path through the clutter. 

Something behind you lingers close. It breathes down the back of your neck but does little else. Your pounding heart races faster; adrenaline courses beneath your skin like a fever. 

Slowly, so very carefully, you turn to find nothing but a doorway of botched purring and warm breath. He's still—unmoving—yet subtle little dribbles of rainwater gather and slide down his invisible form. The Wraith watches you from the threshold, hidden in plain sight for the untrained eye. Fog swims behind him as crystal clear as a mirror, but he's right here… and he's found you before all others. This time, you're alone. There doesn't have to be a ploy of violence in front of the others, just this… just them...

"... I can't believe you're here," you say, already out of breath. It's been so long and…

You reach out, watching your fingers shake on a nervous wrist before they meet a hard, invisible wall of hot cotton and hidden muscle. The warm, well-worn fabric soaks your palm as you smooth your touch in his cowl and up, over the slope of a tall wide shoulder. 

His purring strengthens until you can feel the vibrations through your palm, arm and into your elbow—even your heart trembles against the noise, excited and eager.

So lost in the moment, you jolt back as a generator kicks on, shooting a bright bolt of sound into the Red Forest. Crows scatter from the west side of the map—only to settle down in ruckus annoyance over the cabin's latched roof. The Wraith moves enough to expose the liquid shine of his cloak. He cranes his head back, staring up at the ceiling as the crows settle and begin to peck softly at the roof, and each other when it suits them.

You take a step back as he rattles a warning deep down where your hand had been. Few times have your interactions with him been without violence, and if he should need to slam his spine rod into your head and haul you somewhere else, he will. Phillip can be kind, but he's a killer and does not think twice about maiming or killing you if he thinks at all. 

With a silent chime of his wailing bell, The Wraith uncloaks himself before you. There's not more than a scant second to admire the snug cowl around his chin, imposing figure or those bright, ivory eyes that swim in their sockets to drink you in—there's no time because Phillip swiftly snares you by the back of the head and maneuvers you back against the heavy wooden table. 

Clay cups and ceramic dinnerware are swiped to the floor, breaking in another sharp clatter of sound that stirs The Entity's eyes into a flutter of sable feathers and needle-point beaks.

You gasp once the hard table's edge meets your back. Phillip's grip in the loose hair and tender skin of your scalp brings tears to your eyes, but it's not the pain you swell with, it's the longing… and the pleasure which resurrects itself in your belly.

You're slammed down on your knees before him with a shove, face first with the swollen bulge bursting beneath his wrappings. The garments are thin and tattered, outlining the hidden cock that protrudes from his pelvis's trim muscle. Usually, the sight brings with it a mixture of anticipation and horror, but this time… it's just been too long since the last time.

The Wraith tilts his head to the side, jaw nearly on his shoulder and eyes just as scrutinizing, as you reach for his wrappings with fumbling fingers.

His body heat is blistering. The smell of him is potent: wet earth and copper-sweat. When you unravel his cock out into the open, the taste of him is salty and sharp. Twin veins curl on one side, and because the worst thing he can do is spill your intestines, you bruise several sucks into them. 

Phillip rattles against the attention, so you pepper more kisses, and powerful sucks down the underside until his fingers run through the hair on your crown. 

"I missed you, Phillip," you say against the flared head of a coal-colored cock. The sap that weeps from the small slit slips down against your awaiting tongue, tightening your taste buds in a zing of flavor.

The Wraith purrs, fist in your hair, and forces your mouth around the first five inches or so, just deep enough to make you retch quietly. As you suck and gag, his stomach flexes against your palms, tightening with each slurp of cock. Those breathy purrs turn into noisy, choppy snarls. He hunches over and slams his bone spine into the table. Your teeth press instinctively into flesh, but The Wraith snorts and rattles euphorically, staring with bright saucer-shaped eyes as you continue dragging deep sucks up and down his length.

A firm flick of your tongue beneath the head and a single vibrating moan makes him snarl. He pulls you off slowly, rattling almost lovingly all the while. Strings of thick saliva coat half his cock while a large dollop slides down your chin…

He doesn't speak, not ever, but something about the delicate trill—almost pained—says that's more than enough to lubricate him. It's not, but he'll fuck you either way.

"... ready?"

Phillip nods once and pulls you up by the base of your scalp, unable to empathize with the pain in your hair follicles as he maltreats you to sit on the edge of the table. 

To the east, a generator blows up before it blares to life. Two generators down… which means your fellow survivors have been hunting down totems and treasures instead of their primary objective. You're oddly thankful because fewer generators finished means more time with-

You swallow a loud gasp, bracing against the violent rip of your sweater. Knit strings of wool rend and snap. Threads come undone in shredded clumps as The Wraith tears it off you. 

Without thinking, you slap his hand away.

Phillip freezes as his open palm hovers there between you both. Your heart hammers, but he drops his head to the side and merely waits, hand still close, waiting to finish ripping your clothing to shreds if you choose to take too long. You undress quickly, thermal blues going to the table along with your bra and the thick, warm leggings that catch on your ankle. They don't remain tangled for long before The Wraith has them wrapped around his fist, yanking them off despite the dull burn in your achilles. 

Only when you're stripped bare and vulnerable as a newborn calf, does he pry your thighs apart and stuff himself through wet, tight muscles. 

You scream unburdened by thought, wrapped up in the itchy pain of being stretched and plundered too fast and too deeply. The ache jabs it's way as far as your navel before you grasp the wood—ignorant of splinters—and tense as he pulls out. Phillip rattles loudly, digging himself deeper despite the way you writhe, trying to buck him off. 

_ It'll get better _ , you remind yourself as the tears squirt out of you. "It'll… get," you sob, "... b'better…"

Another generator flies. 

Scattered, mangled fairy lights flicker into a brighter sheen, painting your nakedness in dotted white against the misty darkness. Sweat beads across your breasts and stomach—it coats the legs he has pressed apart in his grasp and runs down your temple. 

It takes four more slow, agonizing thrusts to break the dam. But finally, your body gushes with clean, slick fluids and suddenly… it's good… it's so good you cry brokenly and arch your back, wondering if he can fuck you harder.

He can, and he will. 

As Phillip glides through your tightness, trilling and snarling, you stretch across the table, reveling in that bushfire of pleasure—that molasses ecstasy that clogs and seals in each thrust before it. Sweat and the low hanging humidity makes the dimple lights shine, caressing your body as it rocks back and forth against the Wraith's urgency. 

His engorged, dense cock is not so surprising as your teammates' sluggish pace. They've spent more than enough time wondering which monstrous killer The Entity summoned for the evening's trials. Usually, curiosity would have gotten the better of them at this point, but something… maybe even the fogs own labyrinthian channels, steers them away from the hunting cabin.

Even still, as he rattles off wet marbles of pleasure, you feel a gentle thrum of worry. All the twinges of discomfort from his first few thrusts are gone, and the last thing you want is your fellow survivors sniffing around where they’re not welcome. With a noisy groan, you slot your hips down into the seat of his lap and pray no one shows up to spoil this… this rare moment of bliss in The Entity's hellish limbo.

Your cunt clamps as he fucks upwards just as your thrusting down; sharp head forcing your cervix into your stomach.

Lodged deep and tight, the Wraith slams a palm down into the table beneath you, scratching through loose wood grain to grasp the corner edge. He changes angle with a spine curling motion and purrs deep in his throat. His body bows sharply, smothering you in the smell of hot gasoline and wood-smoke while forcing your hips flush with his once more. Those bright, oval eyes droop the second the entirety of his cock is sheathed—the second your insides start to clench and spasm again. 

New pain blossoms deep beneath your navel. A nerve or tendon—some taut muscle—twangs in warning. But you inhale, channeling relaxing breaths into your pelvic floor and gradually feel your body burn as it accommodates Phillips' too big, and too thick, cock. It should be impossible to take more—to take all of him—but he's done it enough by now that your body manages; welcomes it. 

There's been times that this fucking, even when gentle enough, has killed you. Sometimes the blood loss takes you quickly, and other times it's a sluggish process that leaves a lingering hatred for existence, but whether he's taught your body to take him easier over time or The Entity has allowed you this one mercy, you'll never know. It doesn't make sense for you to be reborn and repaired in all ways, but this one—that the minor tearing from past encounters makes this much more pleasant than each previous fuck.

Maybe The Entity gets off on this as much as it does the constant turmoil and violence. Perhaps… it doesn't concern itself with anything but. The hidden copulation between you—a survivor—and The Wraith—a tragic killer—is inconsequential. In the end, The Entity gets what it wants...

"It' feels-" you breathe in quick, fractured words, "good… now'don't… don't'stop!"

Phillip purrs noisily in reply. His plush lips level in an emotionless line, but his eyes glow hotly. The rolling, dense pellets in his throat are not unlike a large feline, but there's a quality to it that makes you nervous even as the sound washes over you in a nullifying wave. It's hard to figure out if he's being sweet or menacing most of the time...

He doesn't stop plundering your insides despite the way you wince between moans—wouldn't stop even if you begged him, and you have many times, but only because you've been afraid of waking up by the campfire… wondering how long until you'll stumble upon him once more.

As he rocks between your thighs, you claw at the rain-damp cowl hanging about his neck and hold him close, not wanting to end things early like last time. This trial, you want to mold into his rough dermis and stiff physique.

"Fuck’fuck… fuck…" you whisper frantically; clinging so tightly.

_ Fuck _ , you think on repeat when words fall into breathy gasps and groans. 

Sugar-salted ropes begin to pull in your stomach. Slippery muscles desperately cling to the pillar of flesh that slowly hollows you out, methodically… almost lovingly. You're about to come. It's the first in so long… and it’s so… so close...

Without words but the nails you rake around The Wraith's neck, he knows you’re a heartbeat away from climaxing. He feels the fluttering suction around his cock and smells the sweat on your skin—you know he does. The blush in your cheeks traverses down, spreading out until your whole body is on fire. 

" _ Ohhh'haa… _ " you sigh.

Instinct closes off your throat as you prepare to scream, only allowing a weak, whistling sob as your body contracts. Liquid bliss dribbles around his cock, lubricating his thrusts even further until the slow, calculated rhythm is nothing but frantic, sloppy rutting… too deep and too much, too soon.

Tinges of iron—blood—assails your nostrils. 

A little tremble of panic tries to diminish the pleasure throbbing throughout, but it can't. You're too far gone in the throes of him to worry about something as unimportant as death. 

Instead of trying to wiggle away, you envelop him with arms and legs, turning your hips down and up, fucking yourself over his slippery cock. There's nowhere else to go anyway. 

As another generator flies, The Wraith takes advantage of the loud burst of noise to cry out in rattling pitches of highs and lows. His stuttering, tonal pleasure scratches heat through your core, peppering your skin in goosebumps. Usually, it takes a hot beam of light or a pallet to the face to get that sound out of him, but he makes it now… inside you. Pain is usually what it takes, but you stretch and shiver to know that your cunt can bring a similarly intense sensation. 

Phillip tears grooves into the table as he wreaks havoc on your cervix.

You suffer the rough, jarring smacks of cock between your thighs as The Wraith purrs and claws the wooden table, then opens several lines of brilliant red down your back. Table legs strain and creak, as you screech into his cowl—rain patters outside on the cold hard ground but inside your warm and relatively dry. 

Someone crunches a fallen twig nearby… but Phillip doesn't hear or care, and neither do you.

Despite the blood and the pain spanking deep inside, you tremble with another climax, weakly reaching upwards to the side of his head where several sturdy branches sprout. You hold on tight as the shockwave creates a deep eddy in your core. This one is stronger, yet more uncomfortable than the first. It sinks down your spine and lingers in the open wounds he's made, both inside and out. It buries deeper as he fucks your bloody cunt and claws patterns into your back. 

The Wraith keeps pounding, destroying, and trilling, unable to stop. You whisper something about the pain even as your hips clash into his. 

As you cling tightly and sob with each thrust, someone slowly vaults a window upstairs. The wood planks squeak beneath their feet, easily heard creeping around the banister until your eyes roll to the right stairwell. 

Felix crouches low around the corner of a support beam, watching with wide, uneasy eyes. 

Your nails curl deep where Phillips branches protrude, feeling thick, warm blood grease your grip. The beating of his heart thumps with your own, and just as Felix begins to lift his flashlight—ready to 'save' you—The Wraith stiffens, whistles a purr and cums. The sudden sound must startle the man upstairs because the only light remains the dotting twinkle lights and roaring fire.

For some reason, you're reminded of campfire marshmallows as The Wraith fills you—all warm and gooey. Several seconds pass before he gives a final, gentle thrust, releasing the last jet of cum. 

_ Toasty marshmallows sound nice _ , you think, dazed and bleeding but satisfied.

Phillip purrs thickly—wet pebbles rattling beneath waves in his throat—and drops his forehead to yours. Skin-masked bark cuts into the sweaty, soft skin across your temple. It stings, but it's sweet and affectionate, and you hug him close despite the way your arms and legs tremble, because… in this limbo, he's given you something to cling to. 

"Felix is watching…" you whisper against the edge of his mouth, lips lingering near the softness as if ready for a kiss. But he doesn't do that… not yet, anyway...

Phillip doesn't know your fellow survivors' names, but awareness flickers in the ivory eyes that stare unblinking down at you. A breathy purr and nuzzle says he doesn't care. Felix is no threat to him, and whatever instinct bred caution in him, is gone. 

The question now, of whether he'll let you live tonight, lingers. 

The last generator will be popping soon unless, of course, everyone else has grown too curious about where their fourth teammate and the elusive killer is.

You shiver softly as the cold, damp penetrates the heat of sex. 

Phillip knocks your nose with his own, rattles ominously, and removes his softening cock with a sound of sinister satisfaction. His mushroom-shaped head uncorks all the thick, syrupy cum, allowing it to spill down between your ass and the table, then dribble in dollops to the floor. 

The reek of blood and semen hits you like the residue of a gunshot. Felix has disappeared from his viewing post, either to find a better vantage point or… whatever and you— _ well _ , you know the routine by now. 

The Wraith grabs your shoulders and hefts you up into a cramped sitting position. The rare little swipe of his thumbs against your clavicles says he won't be throwing you on a hook this time. You smile, not sure why that makes you feel loved.

Phillip stands to his full height, meticulously wrapping his cock back behind dirty, damp strips of cotton. 

He's still half hard. The outline of it still protrudes teasingly from the thin material. It nearly reignites your lust once more, but he's provided you with a long-lasting gift: orgasms and mercy. 

Right on schedule, the last generator pops. 

The fairy lights hanging above pulse brighter, coating the floor below your feet in golden-hues. Looking up at you, you find a growing pool of cum and blood, the sight of which gives you pause. It’s hard to say if the brittle feeling in your stomach is fascination or disgust.

The Wraith's bare feet flex a few inches from the mess. He pauses to appreciate the mixing fluids with a quiet purring. Carefully, you drag your exhausted gaze up thin but powerful shins and thighs, over the softening bulge of cock framed in narrow hips and upward… to the limp shreds of his cloak, impossibly broad shoulders and…

You give Phillip a shaky smile. 

He blinks with bright white orbs nestled in a brow of darkness, streaked in ashen clay. His chest vibrates but he doesn't return the happy gesture. He never smiles, and you've begun to suspect he can't, but that's okay. Deep down, you know he likes you. Not just your cunt, but you, because sometimes he doesn't fuck you—sometimes he pulls you off a generator with a scream in your throat and steals you into a dark alcove to nuzzle and breathe you in. Just touching your hips and breasts with a vicious care that makes you wish his plans were to delve himself inside… but those moments are precious in their own right. You would trade them for real death or, perhaps, even freedom.

"Until next time?" You ask under your breath, still cautious of any peeping survivors looking in. 

The Wraith nods once, steps backward, and grabs his dirty vertebra club before silently melting into the cabin's backdrop. You watch the subtle shimmer of light as he leaves you on the table, naked and alone— _ maybe alone. _

Next time, you'll insist he take you somewhere else than the middle of the damn map, but—you gotta say—the fact that Felix popped in on you getting dicked down by The Wraith makes you grin to yourself.

  
_ Next time, maybe Phillip will even let you kiss him? Stranger things have happened _ , you realize. Much, much stranger.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. All typos are my own. If you have time, please let me know what you think. <3
> 
> [TUMBLR](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/brimbrimbrimbrim)  
> [DISCORD](https://discord.gg/BS4uvMK)  
> [CURIOUS CAT](https://curiouscat.me/brimbrimbrimbrim)  
> [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/LydiaBrim)  
> [INSTAGRAM](https://www.instagram.com/brim_brim_brim_brim/)


End file.
